Say What You Mean
by TakeItTo22
Summary: Billionaire and playboy, the 2 most common words used to describe Chuck after a documentary about him was released. Tired of the attention, he moves away to Boulder for some time alone. But things change when he meets 3rd grade teacher, Sarah Walker.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I thought I'd try something different. While **Lights That Lead Us There Are Blinding** is a lighter version of **Roads**, it still has a lot of angst sprinkled in. This one is going to have some angst, but it's pretty minimal. I hope you enjoy reading this!

Before **mxpw** used his crazy wizard powers and helped make this chapter readable, it was a pretty big mess. So he's going to need some praising, I think. Everything that reads well is due to his crazy wizard powers, so thanks for that!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own **Chuck**. NBC does. But if I did own **Chuck**, Shaw would still be a little sapling in a lush evergreen forest.

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><p><strong>Boulder, CO<br>June 2009**

It was quiet here. He liked that about this place. For the most part, people seemed to mind their own. Occasionally, people would come up to him and ask if he was Chuck Bartowski. When he would halfheartedly reply, "Yes," the person would bombard him with questions about what happened with him and Jill.

It would have been easier for him to get over Jill had that documentary not been released.

A year ago, one of his college friends released a documentary entitled _Legends Are Average._ It had all started as a joke back in 1998 when Chuck began to write his own code for a new operating system. His buddy, an aspiring film maker named Bryan Wilco, had asked him if he could film his progress. It was never meant to be serious, or at least that's what Chuck had thought. The documentary was supposed to be nothing but practice for Bryan, and his software was supposed to nothing more than something he would spend his free time working on.

Little did either of them know that what had started as a joke would make them rich and famous.

The operating system, called LEOS (it used to be called Mad Panda before it started getting recognition), was finished in 2001, and was published right before Chuck graduated in 2002. Within a year, his software had garnered rave reviews, and instead of selling the program to a larger company, which everyone had speculated he'd do, he had created his own. Thanks to Bryce's knowledge of the market, and Chuck's knowledge of everything computer, they began to distribute the software, and had even hired engineers to build other products. By 2008, nearly everyone had a Legend Enterprise produced product in their home.

It could have been an interesting story. Perhaps a little boring (it was, after all, about software development), but still an intriguing look into an oft ignored world. Unfortunately, his friend's documentary had been less about how a young genius had changed the electronics industry in the span of a few short years, and became more a documentary about his personal life.

For eight years, Bryan had followed him. Chuck had become so used to having cameras around him for sixty percent of his day that he no longer paid them any attention. There were many moments, private moments, that the cameras had captured.

When Bryan asked if he could show the finished documentary at a festival, Chuck had trusted his friend. He was sure that Bryan would not include the humiliating moments of his life, because they were friends. So without a viewing beforehand, Chuck had said yes, and signed an agreement.

There were 400 people present at the premiere, thanks to Chuck's public recognition as the youngest software prodigy in the world. He remembered feeling bad, thinking that people might fall asleep. His expectation for the film was that it was just going to be a running commentary on his progress, showing mostly him at his old desk at Stanford, writing the program. But he was wrong.

Eight years of his life was compressed to two hours and seventeen minutes. Over an hour and half of the film was devoted to Chuck's personal life; moments he wasn't particularly proud of, and made him seem like a huge jerk. But the footage of him and Jill Roberts was what hurt him the most.

He couldn't imagine how Jill felt when she saw the documentary. She was portrayed as the villain while he was the victim. Although she had hurt him in more ways than he could count, he knew that she had been treated unfairly in the film. It was their story that was at the center of it, and the audience didn't get the happy ending that they were expecting. Because of the open-ended conclusion, Chuck was constantly being bombarded with questions from people he'd never met.

That was why he had stepped down as CEO, handing the position to Bryce, while he remained the majority shareholder. He could no longer deal with helming an emerging Fortune 500 giant, and could no longer handle living in Los Angeles for that matter either. Despite all he had done for the city, despite all the money he had pumped into the local economy, all anybody seemed to care about was the same damn question: "Why did Jill just leave you like that? I mean, you're Chuck Bartowski!"

In short, he couldn't deal with the constant questions, the focus and obsession with his one failure despite all his successes, the way nobody seemed to care about who he really was and only who they thought he was. Coming to the conclusion that what he needed was a fresh start, he had moved to Boulder, Colorado. It was supposedly one of the happiest places to live in the United States, after all.

With the decision to make a fresh start firm in his mind, he had also concluded that he was going to need some new hobbies, even though he knew that he would soon go back to playing video games.

All of which explained why Chuck currently found himself standing inside of a large sporting goods store (a place the old Chuck probably would have never even considered stepping inside of) at the Flat Irons Mall looking at bicycles. Remembering the size of the hills and mountains surrounding Boulder, he couldn't help pondering whether he should really take up mountain biking or try something safer, like Frisbee golf.

"Excuse me?" The soft voice belonged to a woman, and he tensed in a way that he never thought he could at the sound of a female voice asking for his attention.

He turned, readying himself for a hail of, "Oh my God, why did Jill say no to _you_?" questions. Or maybe it could have just been an employee offering to help him. It wasn't his fault that he was so paranoid, after all.

But he wasn't prepared to see _her._

The woman he turned to wasn't some overzealous, overly fake baked, bleached blonde haired groupie. Instead, he turned to see a naturally tanned and naturally blonde woman around his age. Her eyes were greenish-blue, and her smile was timid, but it was more apologetic than anything else. And she was, there was no other way of putting it, extremely beautiful to the point where he had to clench his jaw to keep it from dropping.

"I'm really sorry to bother you, but, um, do you mind me asking, uh, how tall are you?"

Chuck tilted his head. Well, that was a new one, he thought. Thanks to the Internet fangirls, his statistics were posted all over his fan pages as well as Wikipedia. How they had gotten that information, and his weight, was beyond him. In fact, he tried not to think about it too much for it caused him to have nightmares.

"I…uh, I'm about six foot three?" he replied, not sure why he had to make it sound like a question.

The woman nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I thought that." She pursed her lips together for a quick moment. "Random question, but do you fly fish?"

That was _really_ random, and he couldn't help but think that if that was a pickup line, it was certainly the most random one he had ever received. "No."

Her face fell. "Oh. Uh, can you do me a _huge_ favor?" She gestured over to the fishing and hunting section of the store. "My brother-in-law is a pretty avid fisher, and he's about your height."

"Okay?"

"I was wondering, if you don't mind, could you…oh, gosh, this is so awkward." She let out a shy chuckle. "Could you maybe try on a couple of waders? I found a few that I know he would like, but I just don't know his size."

Chuck couldn't help but smile. She didn't know who he was and he felt a wave of relief. "Sure, I guess I could do that."

"Thank you so much!" She grinned widely. He let her lead them over to the fishing and hunting section when she turned. "Really, I appreciate it…" she broke off, waiting for him to tell her his name.

"Chuck." She bit her bottom lip, obviously trying to contain a laugh. "Yeah, my parents gave me the great honor of naming me one of those names that sounds like it either belongs to an old man, Charles, or making me sound like I'm a little kid, Chuck or Charlie."

She laughed. "I was just thinking, who still names their kids Chuck?"

"Obviously, my parents were sadists."

"Obviously." She held out her hand and he took it. "I'm Sarah."

"Sarah," he repeated with a smile.

She stopped in front of a large rack of waders. "Okay, I'm not going to embarrass you by making you try on the one I want to get him." She pulled a wader off the rack and held it in front of Chuck. "I just want to see which size would fit him, and I'll go from there."

"Which one do you want to get him?"

"Um," she said, pausing for a moment. There was a hint of a blush on her cheeks. "That one." She pointed to a red wader with beer logos all over it. It was quite, well, it wasn't something that he would have worn if he fly fished. Maybe that could be one of the hobbies he'd try out, fly fishing.

"Yikes. Is your brother-in-law an alcoholic?" he asked.

Again, she laughed, and he felt pleased with himself for some reason. "Actually, he doesn't drink. He just likes to collect things with beer labels for some reason. It's a weird hobby, I know."

"Hey, some people like to collect stamps, other people like to collect beer logos. Who are we to judge?"

"A valid point," she said, gently shaking a wader. "I think this one should fit you."

He took the wader, pulled off his shoes, and tried not to tip over as he put himself into it.

"I really appreciate this," she said.

"It's not a problem." When he finished, Sarah grinned at him, and he felt his face warming.

"Does it fit?"

"Um, I think so, but I don't know anything about these or fly fishing." He lifted a leg in front of him and shrugged.

"I don't either." She frowned, studying him. "I think that size will fit him just fine."

"You think?"

"Well, he's a bit wider than you."

"Oh, how much wider? Because, depending on his, uh, _girth_, I think you might want to go with something a little bigger."

"His girth is fairly substantial. That's what she said," she blurted. Chuck grinned in amusement while Sarah quickly put her hand to her mouth and blushed. "I really didn't mean to say that. It just slipped out."

"Rumor has it that she said that one too," he said.

Sarah laughed. "It's good to know someone else shares my enthusiasm for double entendre jokes."

"It's a dirty world we live in."

"Indeed it is." She stared at him for a moment as they fell into a comfortable lull. "You could take that off. The wader."

"Oh, right." He unhooked the straps over his shoulders, slightly embarrassed.

As he hung the wader back on the rack, they were smiling at each other. An unfamiliar feeling crept up on his spine and down his throat. It wasn't fear, but it was interest; actual interest in someone who was not Jill, and obviously, attraction.

Sarah smiled warmly. "Thanks again. I don't know if you noticed, but there were quite a few people staring at you. I don't know why, though. I mean, you didn't look _that_ silly."

He knew why they were staring, but he shrugged. He just wanted to enjoy being around someone that had no idea who he was. It was such a relief and a luxury. She looked down at her feet for just a second, giving him the impression that she wasn't quite ready to leave yet. He didn't want her to, either. It had been so long since he'd even met another woman, especially someone like Sarah. In less than five minutes, she had gone from being someone who was worth a double take to someone who made him laugh easily to someone who he truly wanted to get to know.

She looked up. "You just moved into town, didn't you?"

"How would you know that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because I've been stalking you." She must have seen the look on his face because she laughed. "Just kidding! No, it's just that everyone that moves to Boulder thinks it's a good idea to mountain bike, and I noticed that you were looking at mountain bikes earlier, and… I _do_ sound like a stalker, now, don't I?"

Chuck laughed. "Just a little bit, but not enough to scare me away." She turned just the slightest shade of pink, and before he could make things anymore awkward for her, he nodded. "But yeah, I moved into town about a week ago. I figured I should look for some new hobbies, you know?"

"Yeah, new town, new hobbies," she said, nodding. "It must be nice."

"Maybe. I'm pretty sure I'm just going to fall back on video games after I break my legs from trying to pedal up a mountain."

She laughed, and again, her eyes scanned him. "I don't know. You've got a pretty athletic build. You know what? If you've never biked before, there's a pretty easy trail right at the base of the Flat Irons. If you decide that you want a bike, you should check it out."

He nodded.

"Yeah, just head up west on Baseline for about twenty miles and you're there."

"Thanks. I might try that. It might be nice to actually explore a bit. I'm sort of getting tired of jogging around the trails at Mapleton Park, which isn't saying much, considering it's pretty much right across the street from my place."

She had a thoughtful look on her face. "Crazy."

"Yeah, I've been called that a lot of times."

"No, I wasn't calling you crazy," she said with a laugh and placing her hand on his elbow in a reassuring way. When she removed her hand, his elbow was still warm. "I live like seven or eight blocks away from Mapleton Park. Who knows? Maybe we'll run into each other one day. I love those trails."

He had to admit, that prospect wasn't unappealing.

Her phone rang. With a flustered look, she dug through her purse, pulled it out, and looked at him apologetically. "I need to take this. It's my sister."

"Okay, um. It was really great meeting you, Sarah."

She grinned. "Likewise, Chuck. We're practically neighbors, so maybe I'll see you around?"

The unfamiliar, yet pleasant, feeling crept up on him again. He nodded with a grin, while Sarah winked in acknowledgement. Waving awkwardly as she put her phone to her ear, he strode away, not noticing the extra bounce in his step.

"Yeah, Emily, can you hold on one sec?" he heard Sarah asking before she called, "Chuck?" Turning quickly, too anxiously, he knew, he saw her grinning at him. "If you decide that you want a bike, I'd go with a Kona."

"I'll remember that," he said. "Thanks!"

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><p><strong>July 2009<strong>

A month had gone by since she'd last seen Chuck, and she would frequently wonder about him from time to time. When she had first met him, he had looked so familiar, as though she had seen him before. She just couldn't place her finger on it.

She took a sip of her coffee and continued reading through a stack of persuasive papers, smiling at the carefully written cursive of her students. So immersed was she in reading about what her kids thought was a better pet, a cat or a dog, she didn't notice when Chuck walked in.

She only looked up when the barista called his name. "I've got a tall drip for Chuck?"

She smiled to herself. For some reason, it was a relief to her that he hadn't ordered one of those overly complicated, fattening drinks like a double espresso with soy and four pumps of vanilla and a pump of mocha. Although she didn't really know him, she also liked that his order fit him. It was a simple order, and he was tall.

Chuck smiled at the barista, and stirred in some cream at the counter. He looked better than she remembered, in his dark blue baseball cap, and light stubble covering his face. His jeans were a bit faded, most likely his most comfortable pair. He was wearing a plain, grey shirt, and his black pair of Chuck Taylors also showed signs of wear. He didn't appear to be a slob, though, just comfortable in his weekend outfit.

She was tempted to call after him, but what was she going to say? "Hi, I'm Sarah. We met at the Sports Authority by the Flat Irons Mall?" No, she was just going to wait and see if he would notice her. If not, maybe she'd run after him, but she seriously doubted that.

He walked by her, giving her a neutral, polite smile. He stopped and cocked his head to the side. "Sarah?"

"Chuck," she said, realizing too late that she didn't seem surprised to see him. God, after that stalker joke she had made, Chuck was going to think she really was a stalker. She wondered if he knew that she had been watching him, waiting to see if he would remember her.

"Hey!" He stepped up closer to the table. "I figured we would run into each other eventually."

"The odds were in our favor," she said, trying to play it cool by shrugging.

"Well, it's great to see you!"

"You too. So have you settled into your new place?"

"Yeah, just about," he replied. "How'd that wader work out for your brother-in-law?"

"He loved it." It was pleasing to know that he remembered.

"That's good." He glanced at the stack of papers with a frown. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you busy?"

She waved a hand. "No, I'm just grading some papers. Sit."

"You're sure?"

She nodded, and set aside the stack of papers as he sat down and placed his phone on the table.

"So you're a teacher."

"That is correct."

"What do you teach?"

"Kids, mostly."

He rolled his eyes as he chuckled. There was something different about the way he smiled today. It was more clear, relaxed. The first time they had met, well, his smile was like the sun hidden behind a haze. It was there, but it wasn't as bright and warm.

"Third grade."

"Mrs. Irwin was my third grade teacher. She was always my favorite." He sipped his coffee.

Sarah had once dated a guy who couldn't remember the names of any of his teachers, and it used to bother her, the idea that she could one day be so forgettable to her students. So when Chuck was able to remember his teacher with ease, well, it gave her hope.

"So what are the kids learning these days?" he asked. "Nuclear fusion? Telepathy?"

Sarah giggled. "Not quite. It's still the standard cursive and multiplication tables, I'm afraid. For practice, I had the kids try to persuade me which pet is better, a dog or a cat."

"A dog, duh."

"My sentiments exactly." She held up a paper. "But Arlene says that cats are better because they can scratch your mosquito bites with their sandpapery tongues."

"Ooh, one point for the cat column."

"Yeah, but Malcolm says that dogs are better because you can feed them your vegetables _and_ blame your farts on them."

"Whoa! Clearly we have a winner." One of Chuck's legs accidentally brushed against hers. He pulled away quickly, looking embarrassed. "Oh, here's a question. Why are you grading papers in the middle of July?"

"Summer school," she replied, tearing off a piece of Danish. "Kids like Arlene and Malcolm need a little practice before fourth grade, so…"

"Ah."

They sat in a comfortable silence, sipping from their cups. She would sneak glances at him. Boy, he was cute.

"You know," he began, smiling at her, "I wish that I had gotten your number at the sports store."

"Really?" She hoped that she didn't sound too excited upon hearing that.

He nodded. "I could use someone to give me the scoop on all the restaurants around here. I'm pretty picky about Chinese food, for example."

This time, she tried not to look too disappointed. "What? That's cheating!"

"How is that cheating?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I had to endure many months of terrible Chinese food when I moved here. Just telling you what's good would be like giving you my homework to copy."

"Typical teacher," he teased, shaking his head. "I mean, you let a girl put you in a wader, and you think she would give you a leg up."

She scowled playfully at him.

"Okay, how about I invite you out for dinner sometime?" he asked, and she felt heat rising in her chest. "Let's say…Chinese?"

"Wow, you're pretty slick, aren't you?" she asked with a smile. "You know that I'll pick a good restaurant because I'll be eating."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, grinning.

She had to admit, Chuck was pretty smooth. He had managed to ask her out without putting himself on the line. But at least he'd asked her out, so that was something.

Unable to keep the grin off her face, she reached for his phone, ready to program her number in. Unfortunately for her, she was not tech savvy, and couldn't even figure out how to unlock the touch screen. She looked at him in defeat and sighed. "I wanted to match your slickness and program my number into your phone, and walk away, saying 'I'm free on Wednesday.' But that's not happening."

The warmth of his smile reached her chest. "There's a button on the top left corner. Push it, and a bar will show up on the screen, and you just slide your finger across."

She did so, but she still didn't know where to go from there. "Now what?"

"Blue icon with the phone on it," he said. "Then you're going to push on the icon with the grids. All you need to do after that is type in your number."

"You want to make a run for it, don't you?" she asked, grinning up from the phone.

He shook his head. "Not really, no. It's amusing watching you struggle with my phone."

"There's a 'That's what she said' joke in there somewhere," she said.

"If I said, 'It's amusing watching you struggle with my device,' then yeah."

She laughed. "You're too funny. Oh, crap. The screen died."

He rolled his eyes. "All you need to do is unlock the phone, and the last screen should come up. This technology has existed for a couple of years, you know."

"Do not insult me because I choose to stay away from these things, sir! I'm just afraid of the inevitable Robot Apocalypse, is all." She began to type in her number. "Plus, a phone is a phone, man. I don't know why it needs to be all fancied up with this touch screen, MP3, GPS, 1-2-3 stuff, anyway. You know what my phone can do?"

He laughed. "What?"

"It makes and receives calls. Sometimes, when I'm feeling _really_ crazy, I'll send a text message."

"Whoa! Rebel without a cause over here!"

"That's right." She finally programmed her number. Sliding the phone back to Chuck, she gathered the stack of papers, grabbed her purse, and her empty cup. "There you go. I'm free on Wednesday."

He chuckled. "Then I'll call you on Tuesday."

"I'll be looking forward to it."

And she really was.

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><p><strong>AN:** You may be wondering, "If Chuck's famous, then how come Sarah doesn't know about him?" That question and others that I'm sure you have will be answered in upcoming chapters. And no, there will be no spy stuff. I apologize if that's your cup of tea. However, I can promise that this will be filled with ooey gooey fluffiness!

Thank you for reading! And if you choose to review, SUPER THANKS for that!

Since I'm feeling giving today, here's an excerpt from the next chapter of **Lights!**

On the ground was Sarah, her hands clutching at her face. Yards away was a stray soccer ball, rolling down the field. Without acknowledging Jill, Chuck ran down the bleachers, toward Sarah. Apart from a few scraped knees and elbows, Chuck had never seen her injured before. It scared him to see her on the ground, clutching her face—oh, God, she was bleeding!

He stopped, about a yard away from Sarah, to take a moment to compose himself. The sight of blood always made him woozy; even when it was in the movies. Taking a couple, hurried breaths, he kneeled down next her.

"Sarah? Are you okay?"

"Her mouth is the Sarlacc," she mumbled weakly. "Watch out!"

Chuck raised an eyebrow as Sarah stirred. In all the years he'd known her, he always thought that she was only pretending to pay attention to _Star Wars_, but he was wrong. She paid enough attention to know what a Sarlacc was.

Slowly bringing her hands up in front of her face, she made a disgusted face. "Is this my blood?"

"Yeah."

"Why does my face hurt?"

"You got hit in the face with a soccer ball."

"Oh. Was I knocked out?"

"That only happens in movies," he replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Maybe."

"Where did the blood come from?"

"Your nose." Chuck looked around him to try to find something to clean the blood off her with. When he couldn't find anything, he pulled off his _Mario_ sweatband from his wrist, and gently wiped the blood off Sarah's face. Some of the girls from Sarah's team sighed longingly, "Aww!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow! I have to admit that I was mega surprised by the amount of positive reviews for the first chapter! Thank you guys so much! I hope this one doesn't disappoint.  
>I need to thank <strong>mxpw<strong> for taking the time to be my beta reader. He puts up with so much, you guys. Seriously, one minute, I'd be expressing some self doubt I have about all my stories, and the next, I'm talking about wanting to write a _Phase Three_ meets _Scott Pilgrim_ meets _Sucker Punch_ meets _Michael Bay_ fic.

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><p>The devil on his shoulder told him that Sarah was too good to be true. It kept insisting that she probably came with a lot of baggage. Or maybe she was a reporter like Katie Holmes's character in <em>Thank You for Smoking<em>, and it was all a front so she could get some information on him.

Being on the cover of almost every tabloid magazine for six months after _Legends Are Average_ was released had made him overly paranoid. Because, insisted the devil on his shoulder, a woman with Sarah's looks, who wasn't married, engaged, or in a relationship was blasphemous.

The angel, however, argued that he had nothing to worry about. Sarah was a great person. He thought of the way her eyes had lit up when she told him that she was a teacher and had shared the papers her students had written with him. She was sweet, and he needed someone like her in his life.

So on Tuesday evening, he had called her and asked when a good time was for dinner. She said six the next night was good, and since neither of them were too far from downtown, she would meet him at the park and they could walk.

The restaurant that Sarah took him to was a hole in the wall. Literally, it could have been a gigantic hole in a gigantic wall. Actually, it was more like a basement: dimly lit, tiny windows close to the ceiling, large pipes running from the ceiling to the ground, and dingy table cloths covering the small tables. There were no patrons to be found, and he wondered if it was because no one knew of this place yet. If Chuck was being honest with himself, it looked like this restaurant was violating a dozen health codes, but he didn't say anything. After all, maybe this place was Sarah's little secret, not yet discovered by the hip people of Boulder.

A waitress wandered by and dropped two menus onto their table and then plopped two glasses of water down. She asked, in broken English, if they wanted anything else to drink, and they ordered some beers.

"Okay, so the service isn't that great," said Sarah with an apologetic smile. "But wait till you taste their food."

She seemed a bit nervous, and Chuck couldn't help but find it adorable. It was like she was really hoping to impress him. That was something that had rarely occurred with Jill.

"I'm sure the food will be great." He picked up his menu. It disturbed him that there were no descriptions next to the items.

"You should try their Mongolian beef," she said, not bothering to pick up her own menu.

The waitress returned, and gave them their beers. Chuck ordered the Mongolian beef while Sarah ordered the sesame chicken, and the waitress stalked away. Chuck listened while Sarah told him about her job. While other women, including Jill, would tell their tales with disinterest, Sarah immersed him with her enthusiasm. Her stories were easy to follow. He liked the way she gesticulated fervently and the way her eyes would light up every time she told him about random events that occurred during the school day. His personal favorite story was about a squirrel that had somehow found his way into the classroom.

Chuck grinned. "Do you have story time?"

"Of _course_! It's the best part of my day!"

"I always loved story time. I remember thinking _James and the Giant Peach_ was the greatest children's book ever."

"Pfft," Sarah scoffed playfully. "The greatest children's book ever is _obviously_ _Charlotte's Web_."

"I disagree. While it's a great book, it's got nothing on _The Trumpet of the Swan_. As far as books with talking animals go, that one's the best."

She rolled her eyes and pretended to pack up her purse. "You know what? I think I'm going to go. I don't know if I should be out with someone who thinks _Trumpet of the Swan_ is better than _Charlotte's Web_."

"Oh, don't do that," said Chuck, putting on a playfully hurt look. "You'd be breaking a lot of hearts by leaving."

"Is that so?"

"Right now, there is a cook in the kitchen who is pouring his heart, soul, and sesame seeds into your chicken. What's he going to think when the waitress returns the dish to him? He'll probably cry for weeks."

"We can't have that, now, can we?"

"Absolutely not."

She pretended to ponder while Chuck smiled at her. He couldn't help it. She was adorable. "Okay, I guess I'll stay. Even _if_ you like _Trumpet of the Swan_ better than _Charlotte's Web_. But disagree with me again, and I'll leave."

"I'll do my best not to disagree with you, then."

"Good," she said with a wink.

The waitress arrived with their food. When Chuck's plate was roughly placed in front of him, he did his best not to grimace. The food was grey, the vegetables looked faded, and the beef chunks had a rainbow sheen of grease layered over them.

"Looks good," he said, hoping he sounded sincere. Maybe it would taste good. Okay, he hoped that it would taste good.

"Mm hmm."

He picked up his chopsticks, pinched a piece of beef, and took his first bite. Dear Lord! It was terrible. Although he had never chewed on a leather boot before, he was positive that chewing this beef was like chewing on a boot. Apart from the excessive amount of soy sauce, there wasn't much flavor to it at all. While Sarah had been hitting homeruns all night, if this was what she considered great Chinese food, he didn't think he'd be able to date her; no matter how engagingly funny and attractive she was.

He looked up at Sarah and saw that she was grinning at him, her plate of sesame chicken untouched. When he swallowed the horrid piece of beef, her grin became wider, and there was a twinkle in her eye. And that's when he realized, she had just pranked him.

"What do you think?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and washed away the horrible taste with a long sip of beer. "I think that you're extremely evil; especially for a third grade teacher."

She laughed triumphantly. "I told you that I'm not a cheater. I had to endure months of crappy Chinese food before I got to the good."

"Still," he said, taking another swig of beer, "this has got to be the worst Chinese food ever."

"Yep," she said, her grin still wide and her eyes still twinkling. "It's the absolute worst."

He picked his chopsticks up again, ready to pay his dues when Sarah reached across the table and placed her hand on his.

"Oh, God, Chuck! You don't have to eat anymore! Just watching you take that first bite was hard enough. Let's just finish our beers and get out of here."

"Thank God."

She tapped the neck of her bottle against his in a challenge, and they both drank quickly. Memories of doing keg stands in college flooded his mind as he swallowed the last of his beer. He beat Sarah, but just barely as she slammed her bottle down on the table just as he reached for a napkin to wipe his mouth with.

"I'm impressed," he said. She smiled and put some cash down on the table. He reached across to stop her. "Hey, I'll get this."

"No way," she said, gently pushing his hand away. "This was my joke, and it was totally worth it. You can pay for our real dinner."

"Fair enough."

They left the restaurant quickly and began to walk around the town. The next restaurant they went to was great, and Chuck left feeling full and satisfied. Sarah was fantastic. Their conversation was light and fun.

And while Chuck walked her back to her apartment, she boldly wrapped her arm around his. When her head rested on his shoulder, she smelled like summertime, like coconuts and maybe suntan lotion. A grin formed involuntarily on his face, but he made no effort in shedding it.

"Did you always want to be a teacher?" he asked, kicking a pinecone off the sidewalk.

"Not really, no." He felt disappointed when she lifted her head off his shoulder, but pleased when she linked her hand with his. Even when they had been dating for years, it was always Chuck that had to make the first move with Jill. So what Sarah was doing was quite the pleasant welcome. "After I graduated, I went to work for a publishing company. I was pretty much a glorified secretary."

"They're called administrative specialists or assistants now. Come on, Sarah, you gotta be politically correct here!"

He pretended to flash a flustered look at her, and she laughed. "Sorry. I was a glorified _administrative specialist_. Happy?"

"Yep. You can continue now."

"Anyway, I was working for some muscle car magazine, and I know this is going to be surprising, given the skirt I'm wearing." She gestured to her floral printed Georgette skirt. "But I have no interest at all in muscle cars."

Chuck feigned surprise. "What? So you're _not_ a grease monkey?"

"Sorry to disappoint," she said with a smile and a shrug. "Anyway, I worked with this woman named Laura, and she asked if I could tutor her son. I did, and it was, and I'm sorry for the cliché, rewarding. It really was, though, seeing him so proud of himself whenever he learned how to do something on his own, you know?"

He nodded. "So from that moment on, you wanted to teach?"

"Yep. I quit my job, went back to school, and a few years later, I got this teaching gig here."

"And you're happy?"

She frowned just the slightest bit. "Well, I'm happy with my career choice, if that's what you mean. But my personal life needs a bit of work, I think."

"Oh?"

She shrugged. "It's a long story, I guess. Not one that I should tell on a first date."

"I love long stories, though."

"Oh, I do too," she said with a laugh. "But if I tell you this story now, then what are we going to talk about when we go out again?"

Chuck grinned, happy that she was already thinking about going out for a second date. "So you want to go out again?"

"I _guess_," she said with a joking exasperation in her voice. "I mean, you asked so nicely."

He laughed. "Okay, then. We'll go out again."

"I'd really like that." She grinned, nodding up to an old, vintage apartment building. It looked nice, he thought, while she began to dig in her purse for her keys. "Well, this is me. So, um, every Friday, Dark Horse—that's a bar, by the way," she added when Chuck scrunched his face in confusion. "Anyway, Dark Horse has live music on Friday nights. It's pretty fun. Do you want to go?"

She looked up expectantly at him, which made his decision more difficult. Going out to a bar on a Friday night in the middle of July meant that there was going to be a lot of people. Drunk people who may have seen the movie were a recipe for disaster, especially since Sarah didn't know exactly who he was yet. It was selfish of him for not telling her, he knew. He really liked her, and he had a lot of fun with her tonight. It was nice having someone treating him like a normal person.

And she looked so hopeful.

"Yeah, sounds great," he said.

"Great." She grinned and played with her keys.

"I had fun tonight, terrible Chinese food notwithstanding."

"I had fun, too. Probably more than you, though," she said with a laugh.

"You do know that I'm going to get you back for that, right?"

"Am I supposed to be scared? Was that a threat?"

"Oh, you're just asking for it now." His gaze fell to her lips.

"No, Chuck," he heard Ellie's voice say inside of his head. "You do _not_ kiss a girl you really like on the first date, regardless of what the movies say. It sends her a bad message."

"But, Ellie! Look at her! She's so cute and it really looks like she wants me to kiss her!"

"I said no!" Mind-Ellie said. "She probably does want the kiss, but what's she going to do when she finds out who you are? Everyone thinks your some sort of man-slut, and while I agree with them to a certain extent, you need to show Sarah that you're not a man-slut!"

"Fine."

"By the way, don't get a Maserati," said Mind Ellie. "I know you want one, but you're living in Colorado now. You're going to mess up the bumper with all those hills."

"Good point," his mind said. "Mind-Ellie, you're smart."

"I know I am. Also, don't forget to call the real Ellie."

He cleared his throat. Great, he was hearing voices now. "Uh, anyway. I should let you go in. School tomorrow, right?"

Sarah nodded. "Thanks again for dinner, Chuck."

"Hey, we're even," he said. "You're the one that paid for the terrible stuff."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She was still playing with her keys and smiling playfully at him.

It was extremely difficult to not stare at her lips. He moved in to give her a hug, and she brought her face up at the same time, and they bumped into each other in an uncomfortable fashion. They took a step back, chuckling awkwardly, and Sarah held out her arms. He went in for the hug.

"Good night, Sarah."

"Good night, Chuck."

* * *

><p>Sarah had the terrible habit of preparing too early. Ever since she was a child, she would wake up around 5:00 AM. By the time she was ready for school, she would have an extra hour and a half before the bus came to pick her up. It was something that had stuck with her even into her adult life. Whenever she would go out, whether it was for a date or just to meet up with friends, she would always get ready far too early. The worst part of this habit of hers was the times when she'd get a last minute phone call saying that they couldn't make it.<p>

Chuck wasn't due to pick her up for another thirty minutes, and for the last hour, she had examined herself in the mirror far too many times to count. It was one of those things she couldn't explain, just like how she needed to double check all of her kids' answers when she graded their papers. At least she was happy with her hair, makeup, and outfit for the night.

Second dates were crucial for Sarah. The reason for that was because it was usually the second date where guys wouldn't call her back. It wasn't because she wasn't attractive. In fact, to say that she wasn't attractive would make her a liar. But it was because of how "dorky" she was. While most men found her dorky sense of humor adorable at first, by the second date, they would be like, "Okay, can we grow up a bit, please?"

Normally, she wouldn't care what those other men thought. If they didn't like her for who she was, then that was good for her, wasn't it? At least she wasn't wasting her time with them. But she really liked Chuck. He was different from most of the other guys she had dated in the past. His eyes didn't glaze over when she had talked about her job, so that was certainly a plus. Instead, they showed genuine interest—perhaps admiration for her, and she liked that a lot.

There were still a lot of things that she wanted to know about Chuck. The only explanation he gave for moving to Boulder was that he quit his old job, and he wanted to try something new. Something told her that there was more to his story, but she didn't want to pry. God knows that she didn't have the best track record, either. Those stories, she knew, would be shared only if they went on more dates—if they decided to pursue something serious. So she really hoped, since she refused to change who she was, that she wouldn't scare him away with her dorky behavior.

Chuck arrived only a few minutes late, wearing a green and white striped shirt, jeans, and a baseball hat. She couldn't help but feel reassured that Chuck would embrace her dorkiness; especially when he said he had printed out a map of directions to the Dark Horse.

During the drive to the bar, they talked about the kind of music that they liked, and they playfully bickered when one of them would disagree about the other's music selection. Sarah enjoyed their bantering, but something about Chuck was off tonight. It was almost like the first time she had met him at the sports store. His smiles were once again hidden by the clouds, and she couldn't figure out why. Oh, God, she hadn't forgotten to put on deodorant, had she?

"Are you okay?" she asked when he parked his BMW.

"Yeah, I'm fine." His voice was a little too cheerful, and not at all convincing. "One sec, I'll get your door."

She opened her mouth to say that he didn't need to do that, but he had already darted out. It was a sweet gesture, though. In her 28 years of life, not one guy had offered to open the car door for her. As Chuck walked around the car, looking left and right as though he had a feeling that he was being watched, Sarah discretely sniffed her underarms. Yeah, she had remembered to put on her deodorant.

They made their way to the bar, and instead of blaming possible body odor on being the reason that Chuck seemed to be distant, she now thought that maybe she had boogers in her nose. Seriously, what was his deal? He kept looking around, with a look of paranoia on his face. They had barely entered the bar, loud music from the band on stage blaring, when he dropped his head down and lowered his hat.

"Are you a fugitive or something?" she asked, standing on her toes, close to his ear.

He chuckled. "No, definitely not a fugitive. I'm sorry. I'm a little out of sorts today."

"Is everything okay?" she asked with a frown. "I mean, if you don't—"

"No, I want to hang out with you," he said, smiling warmly this time, restoring her confidence.

"Really?"

"Really." He pressed three fingers together and raised his arm. "Scout's Honor."

He grinned at her, and although she wasn't entirely convinced, she took his other hand, hoping that it would comfort him in some way. They went over to the bar. Chuck ordered a pint of Guinness while Sarah ordered sangria. He handed the bartender his credit card to start a tab, and she led him to an open booth.

"So, um…what have you been up to these last couple of days?" she asked loudly.

"Nothing, really," he replied with a shrug. "Oh, I checked out that trail you told me about by the Flat Irons? When we first met?"

"You got a bike?"

"Yep. I got a Kona."

Sarah smiled. "You remembered my suggestion!"

"Well, yeah," he said with a shrug. "That was a very interesting day for me."

"So random people don't come up to you and ask you to try on waders?"

"Oh, they have," he quipped, "but it hasn't happened in years."

She laughed. "So how do you like the bike and trail?"

"Well, the bike's awesome. I mean, I don't know much about bikes, but it's light, and yeah…it's good. The trail was fun, too. I was thinking that if you aren't doing anything this weekend, maybe you wanted to go out to the trails with me?"

Her face warmed, and she doubted that it was because of the alcohol. He pretty much asked her out again, so that was encouraging. It was nice to know that she wasn't the reason he was out of sorts. Maybe he was just having an off day, she thought. Everyone had those.

"Yeah," she replied, grinning. "I'd like that."

After a few more drinks, Chuck seemed more relaxed. He was a great date, she realized. She liked the way he leaned close to her so that he could hear her over the music or so he could be heard. Each time he did, she breathed in his fresh scent. He smelled like soap and she detected the light scent of his cologne. Her ex-fiancé, Peter, always doused himself in strong cologne. It made her head hurt whenever she was with him.

She listened while Chuck gushed about how beautiful the scenery was when he was out on the trail.

"Yeah, it's really beautiful out there, isn't it?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, and, I don't know, I just think this place is really great. The sunsets here are _amazing_!"

She smiled as she envisioned herself watching the sunset with him one day, cuddled up close together.

When they finished their drinks, Chuck walked over to the bar to order another round. Enjoying the easy gait of his steps and the way his jeans hung just so on his waist, she wondered why he was single at 29. In fact, why had he moved to Boulder? He had said he wanted to start over, but _why_? Sarah sighed. Everyone had their own history, and she would eventually learn more about Chuck's one day. After all, they were supposed to go out again this weekend. It was best to just wait and see.

Chuck came back with their drinks while the band onstage began to play their version of a song she was familiar with. Before he scooted into the booth, she asked, "Hey, do you want to dance?"

"Um, I don't think that's a good idea," he said, looking uneasy. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, you know?"

"Why? Are you a professional dancer or something?"

He laughed. "No. Actually, I should have said that I don't want to traumatize you. Because after you see my terrible dancing, it will be etched in your mind. Always. You'll wake up in the middle of the night, screaming, because you'll have nightmares about my dancing."

"Hey, I'm a terrible dancer, too!" she cried, giggling as she slid out of the booth. She took his hand and pulled him over to the floor, ignoring his protests. "C'mon! Everyone's either too drunk or buzzed to care anyway."

To prove her point, she began to do a terrible version of the Running Man. Chuck laughed, shook his head, and opened his mouth to say something. What he wanted to say, she didn't know, for a young, brunette woman squealed loudly, "Are you Chuck Bartowski?"

Sarah stopped doing the Running Man mid-step, and felt her heart stop beating. Did that woman say what she thought she said? Chuck was Chuck _Bartowski_? Computer genius, billionaire, and famous playboy Chuck Bartowski? No, he couldn't be. Although she had never seen a picture of the guy, she had been sure that Chuck Bartowski was a short, squat, greasy, younger version of Bill Gates.

But when Chuck squeezed his eyes shut, opening them to give Sarah a mournful look, she knew what the answer was going to be.

"Yeah."

"Holy shit!" the woman cried. "Chuck fucking Bartowski in Boulder fucking Colorado! Wait till my friends hear about this! Can I get a picture?"

She didn't wait for his answer, and instead, she shoved her phone into Sarah's hand and wrapped her arm around Chuck's waist, while others on the dance floor stopped what they were doing, and gaped over at Chuck. He gave her an apologetic look, and Sarah was too stunned to do anything. She stood there, her mouth agape, and holding some girl's camera phone in her hand.

"It's the middle button," said the woman, grinning wildly.

She didn't know what to do. Her body wanted to run away, while her mind kept repeating, "How could you not know that you were going out with Chuck Bartowski, stupid? Stupid! Stupid!" So she took the picture and handed the woman her phone back.

Seemingly satisfied with the way the picture turned out, the woman looked up at Chuck. "Hey, I saw your movie."

"Okay," said Chuck, unable to take his eyes off Sarah.

"Yeah, but what was up with you and Jill? I mean, she said no to your proposal, right?"

Proposal? To Jill? Who the fuck was Jill?

Chuck shrugged. "If you saw the movie, then you saw what happened." His tone was kind, yet it was also icy, if that was possible. "Excuse me."

He placed his hand on the small of her back and gently guided her toward the exit. The entire time, Sarah couldn't look at anything other than him. A billionaire's hand was on the small of her back. She had hugged him the night before. Oh, God! She did the Running Man in front of a billionaire! What the hell was wrong with her?

"I am so sorry about that," he said when they got into his car.

"I…" Sarah trailed off, trying to gather her head. "I just read a pamphlet for Legend Enterprises not two days ago, and I read about how some guy named Chuck Bartowski created some revolutionary software."

"So you knew who I was?"

"I knew you were _Chuck_, but I didn't know you were Chuck Bartowski. Your picture wasn't on the pamphlet."

"Right. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you before, but—"

"I was picturing some greasy, fat, geeky sort of guy." She remembered reading, "The word "playboy" has been associated with Mr. Bartowski, but the man is all business in the office," in the pamphlet. "And I thought by 'playboy,' they meant, 'Yeah, Chuck Bartowski's rich enough to afford fancy hookers.' Oh, God! What if the people in there think I'm some fancy hooker?"

He gave her a hurt look, which she ignored. She was just freaking out too much.

"Hey," he said, sounding offended.

"And I took you to a Chinese shit hole! I took a fucking billionaire to a Chinese shit hole!" She clutched at her face, breathing very roughly.

There was a famous YouTube video that had been circulating around the Internet about a boy whose mother had cancelled his _World of Warcraft_ subscription. In the video, the boy screamed as though he was possessed by a demon, and flailed so roughly that he could have given Linda Blair a run from her money. At this moment, it took all the strength that she had not to freak out like that boy. It wasn't because she was mad at Chuck. After all, she had never really asked him what his profession was after he had told her that he quit his job in L.A. But it wasn't every day that you found out that the man you were extremely attracted to, and maybe even falling for, was a genius software designer and self-made billionaire.

"I thought it was cute," he said softly. "You taking me to the Chinese shit hole was really cute."

"Don't make fun of me!" she snapped. Cute? What was he? Twelve? As she remembered that it was her idea to prank him, she felt even more stupid than she had before.

"I wasn't!" he cried. "Really, Sarah, it was a great prank."

Sarah groaned and gave him a defeated look. "I'm sorry, it's just…a lot to take in."

"I know. And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you who I really was before, but…" His voice had cracked, and it sounded weak. He let out a sigh. "I was selfish, I guess. I'm not what the tabloids say I am, you know? I'm actually pretty shy, so it's rare for a woman to approach me and not know who I am."

"You were in tabloids?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. Of course he was in tabloids. Words like _billionaire_ and _playboy_ were always associated in tabloids. But she never paid any attention to them. In fact, whenever she went to the grocery store and waited in line, she was busy looking at the candy instead of reading the headlines on gossip magazines.

He nodded. "I just really liked you from the get go. You're just…so great, and funny, and you have me hooked. It wasn't just because you didn't know who I was. That was just the cherry on top." Pulling his hat off, he ran his hand through his hair. "And I didn't tell you because I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scaring you away," he replied, giving her a broken look. "I don't have the best reputation."

"I don't know much about you," she admitted, "other than that you're apparently a 'playboy' and you proposed to someone named Jill. Wait—did you propose to Jillian Michaels from _The Biggest Loser_?"

He shook his head and chuckled. "No. I didn't propose to her. The Jill I proposed to was…it's a long story."

She wanted to pry, but decided it was best not to. However, it didn't change the fact that she was a bit curious as to why some random woman in a bar would know about a rejected proposal from a software designer. Okay, so she wanted to scope out the competition. "Can you at least tell me if she's like some famous actress or some sort of celebrity?

"I guess she is now," he replied, still looking gloomy.

Whoever this stupid Jill lady was, it seemed like she had hurt Chuck very much if just the mere mention of her name was enough to make him appear dead behind the eyes.

"I was in a documentary," he said. "It's hard to explain, but my friend wanted to film my progress while I was writing the first version of LEOS during our freshman year. And I thought that's what it was going to be about. The exciting world of software design. But he insisted that I let him follow me around, and since I figured, 'Hey, no one's ever going to see this, I might as well let the guy have some fun,' I ran with it."

"Oh." She had a guess as to what he was going to say next.

"Anyway, so this guy, Bryan, he and his film buddies followed me around for years. After awhile, I stupidly forgot about them, because I was so used to having them around. So I let my guard down, and they captured over eight years of my life on tape and edited it down to two and a half hours. After that, Bryan asked me if he could show the documentary at a festival, telling me that it was about how I created the company. Since I trusted him, because he was supposed to be my friend, I said yes. And what the audience saw was…" he broke off and sighed, "the worst parts of me. I wasn't…there are a lot of things that I've done that I'm not particularly proud of, and the documentary focused on almost all of those moments."

He looked out the driver's window, and shook his head to. It was sad how ashamed he looked, and she couldn't imagine how ashamed he felt. After years of hard work to be recognized as a prominent software designer, the thing that people would associate him with was going to be the documentary.

"That's why I didn't tell you that I'm Chuck Bartowski," he said. "I didn't want to scare you away."

The devil on her shoulder told her to run. Chuck Bartowski was nothing but trouble. He hadn't even told her exactly why he was considered a "playboy," which scared her. She had been cheated on by Peter multiple times, and he was most certainly not a billionaire. If she continued dating Chuck, who was to say that he wouldn't cheat on her? In fact, he'd have an easier time than Peter had at getting girls into bed with him. Chuck was _way_ better looking than Peter, _and_ he was a billionaire.

Then the angel on her other shoulder reminded her that if Chuck really was an asshole, then he wouldn't have remembered her name when he saw her a month after they had first met. Not only that, but he remembered the trail and mountain bike she had suggested. He always seemed interested to hear about her life, and he was a great listener. If she asked him if he remembered exactly what Malcolm had answered in his report for which was the better pet, Chuck seemed to be the guy that would say, "He said he likes dogs because you can give them your vegetables and blame your farts on them. Arlene argued that cats are better because their sandpapery tongues could scratch your mosquito bites." He seemed like a genuinely caring guy who just had one bad thing to ruin his reputation.

"Listen, Chuck," she began, her decision made. "I really like you. You seem to be a good guy."

"I try."

"But it scares me that I like you, yet you seem to have this history that a lot of people know about, and I don't even think I've cracked the surface of it." Nervously, she began twiddling her thumbs.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'm not going to lie, I think it's going to be rough dating me. I come with a lot of baggage, you know?"

"Well, I could be your very own baggage handler." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. That had to be the corniest thing she had _ever_ said in her life, and she had said a lot of corny things.

Chuck blushed the tiniest bit but he smiled warmly at her. "I think that's exactly what I need in my life. My very own baggage handler."

Sarah laughed, although she was still cringing on the inside. "That was such a bad line. I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"Don't be. It was great."

"So if I were to tell you that I want to continue, uh…do you consider us to be dating?" He nodded, and she felt relieved. "But because I'm human, and I'm curious, if I were to ask you if I could watch the documentary, would that be okay?"

Chuck nodded. "I can't stop you from doing that. It's not my place. But, if we were to continue dating, I'd prefer it if you let me take you out on a couple of more dates before you saw it."

Sarah grinned. "Well, if I wanted to continue dating, I'd say, 'Yes,' right about now, wouldn't I?"

"Yep."

"Well, I guess, I can give you a couple of more dates," she said, taking his hand.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I promised you guys that there will be _MINIMAL_ angst in this story, but I never said there won't be any angst. In fact, I don't consider this angst. It's more of a conflict, and every story needs some. However, I did promise "ooey-gooey" fluffiness, and I plan on delivering that soon. Thank you for reading!


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